asgardmeridiem | Lucy, you got some 'splaining to do

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Lucy, you got some 'splaining to do

Who: Stiles and Scott
What: Brotp times, getting the low down on the place, and likely drunken chicanery.
When: Day 274 (Evening)
Where: Starting at the pet store, moving to some kind of drinking establishment
Rating: PG-13 for potential potty mouthed behavior.

He'd taken charge of Erica and they'd actually managed not to join Isaac in whatever prison he was being held in. He'd also managed not to mention that Isaac was in prison. Go Stilinski. He actually did figure out how to use the mapping system on the bracelets, meaning he was able to drop Erica back off in her own district at her own house eventually. He hadn't figured out how to do it without looking like a total tourist. Things to work on...

He made his way to the Freya district, standing outside the store and just shaking his head. "Allison's. Really, Scott?" Why was he friends with him again? They had some talking to do, he and Scott. Mainly about how many times he'd been here before, what had happened, and why he couldn't remember any of it. Then they'd get to the less important things, like Isaac and Derek.

Stiles hadn't heard anything else from the de-wolfed ex-Alpha and he wasn't really looking forward to bumping into him again. Maybe he wouldn't have to. Hey, with the whole werewolf thing gone from everyone, there was no reason for Scott to be around Hale at all, which meant Scott could be blissfully ignorant of his presence. Look at that, a positive already.

He headed into the store, calling out Scott's name when he entered.

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If Scott was going down, Stiles was going down with him. Those were the rules.

"I'm not drunk." Yet. "I haven't even finished my drink." Which was Stiles' fault. He should have never brought up the plant incident.

He clasped Stiles' outstretched hand, allowing his best friend to pull him up. Sitting back on his stool, Scott finished what was left of his beer before slamming his bottle down with an accomplished grin. He did it! Give him a pat on the head, Stiles.

Pat, pat. Good boy.

Stiles actually did give Scott a little congratulatory pat, but then gave the bartender a wave and signaled. "Dos tequlias, por favor and a couple of lime wedges. And two more beer, please."

He turned to Scott and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I sure hope you pay yourself well at your store, because you're wasting so much money on booze tonight."

"We're having tequila?" Scott said almost confusedly, looking innocent as ever. "And beer?"

Scott pretty much kissed his sobriety goodbye. He didn't really see it as a waste of money right now, but he probably would whenever he threw up the contents of his stomach come tomorrow morning.

"Did I tell you I got Derek to work there once? And Jackson." Was he bragging? Maybe a little, since it meant at the time he was technically Derek and Jackson's boss.

"You need chasers for tequila, Scott. Duh." Stiles just gave his bestie a look before their drinks were set in front of him.

He laughed at that, imagining Derek scowling in the little store, surrounded by kittens and hating every second of it. "I hope you made them clean out the poop." That would make it just that much better.

He grabbed his shot glass of tequila and his lime wedge, lifting it towards Scott. "Bottoms up." Then he followed his own advice, tipping the tequila up and drinking it down before biting the lime wedge. "Oh god, that's nasty."

"I wish..." No, they'd left all the poop-related activities for Scott unfortunately. "I think Derek scared most of my customers away." It had been a seriously bad decision to hire Derek. He even refused to wear the uniform, probably because it had Allison's name on it. Basically he just stood around in Scott's store looking grumpy all day and got paid for it, the jerk.

"It even smells gross," Scott commented before he threw his head back to swallow the shot. Of course, Scott's lime wedge slipped out of his hand and fell on the floor, which meant he had nothing to take the edge off. "That's disgusting, give me your lime!" He didn't care that Stiles had already bit down on his, Scott made grabby hands for it anyway.

With Stiles here, that wouldn't be happening anymore. (Unless it did, in which case Stiles would give Scott so much hell for it. SO MUCH, SCOTT.)

Watching Scott take the shot was like watching a horrific car accident about to happen. He saw the fruit slip out of his fingers and onto the floor and he almost laughed. Then the look on his face as he tried to get Stiles' just made it worse. "Fine, fine, here you go, you big baby." He lifted the wedge and shoved it into Scott's mouth. Suck on that, Scott.

Suck on that he did. And he looked like a baby sucking on his dummy, the way he sucked on the lime with no hands, until he let it drop from his mouth and hit the bar. He stuck out his tongue and shuddered.

"That didn't help as much as I wanted it to." Stupid lime. Stupid tequila. "We're not having any more of that, are we?" Don't say yes, Stiles, or he'll go home. Don't even answer the question, just put a beer in his hand and quickly change the subject.

That was exactly what he did, sliding the bottle over to fit in Scott's hand, lifting his own to his mouth to give him a pretty good excuse as to why he wasn't answering.

Oh, they'd be having more of those if only so Stiles could be amused at the look on his face again. Ha ha, that was hilarious, Scott. Do it again. "Maybe we'll get some jagerbombs. Or a slippery nipple." He waggled his eyebrows at Scott, taking another sip.

Scott was still trying to get the taste of tequila out of his mouth by... well, sticking his tongue out as much as possible apparently, when all of a sudden there was a full bottle of beer in his hand. Well, that wouldn't do at all. Scott quickly got to work at getting the beer from the bottle and into his warm tummy.

He almost did another spit-take when Stiles mentioned slippery nipples. Or rather, one slippery nipple. Haha, nipples...

"Or..." Scott tried to think of a name of a drink with a funny name. "Sex on the beach."

Oh no, now he was thinking about sex on the beach with Allison.

"Yeah..." A dreamy look appeared on Scott's face. "That'd be awesome..." He was daydreaming so much, he aimed for the bottle with his mouth and somehow missed, the bottle hitting his cheek instead. "Ow."

Stiles rolled his eyes at the look on Scott's face. Honestly. You'd think he was the only one that had ever had sex before. He 'accidentally' slipped his foot off the rung of his stool, kicking Scott in the leg just as he smacked himself in the face with this bottle. Perfect timing.

"Oh, oops."

He wasn't sorry in the slightest. "So I assume things are still great between you two. Sickeningly so, it seems." He envies you and your sex, Scott. Your smiles rub it in his face. With salt. And lemon juice.

He was the only one who'd had sex out of him and Stiles. Scott considered that an achievement. He rubbed his face with a pout, but brightened soon enough at the mention of talking about him and Allison.

"Thinking about her makes me feel all warm inside," Scott sighed happily.

Yeah, it was probably the tequila making him feel that right now rather than Allison, to be honest.

"Thinking about her makes it impossible for you to ever play Santa without getting tossed in jail." He gave Scott a smug look before drinking more beer. He was making it look like he was drinking it faster than he was to urge Scott to finish his beer.

He didn't hate Scott for what he had. He was happy for him. Yeah, he was a tiny bit jealous, but more because of what Scott was getting that he wasn't than who it was with. Except for that one time that shall never be mentioned.

Scott shook his head at Stiles. "Your mind works in grossly mysterious ways, you know that?"

He was determined to finish this beer before Stiles this time, but paused his drinking to complain, "Sucks that you're not in Freya." He wished Stiles was living across the hall from him. It would have helped him sleep better at night, knowing Stiles was nearby in this occasionally dangerous city far away from home.

He just gave Scott a look. "Uh huh. Bestiality?"

Who's the pervert now, Scott?

He put the bottle down long enough to answer. "I don't know how we get chosen or how we get voted into houses, but yeah, that sucks. But I don't think I'd want puppy eyes power. I don't have the look for it." He grinned and lifted his bottle to finish it.

"What? That was an honest mistake." A mistake which Allison also made. Pretty fishy if you ask, well, anyone.

"Sure you do." Crap, Stiles was beating him again. How did this keep happening? Scott hurried to catch up.

"It still baffles me how even after you got turned into something out of a fable, you never bothered to pick up a book on the subject." Really, Scott? You just expected Stiles to go do all your reading for you? To go through thousands of books and stories and legends and lore and... Yeah. He actually liked doing that. Never mind.

He finished his bottle (hah) and put it down, giving Scott an eyeroll. "No, I don't. Notice how they never work on my dad, but yours do? And don't say it's a parent thing, because they never work on your mom either, but yours do. You have a puppy face. I have a... a face-face."

Was his best friend seriously lecturing him for not studying enough?

...Okay, maybe he should have studied werewolfism at least a little instead of letting Stiles do all the work. But Stiles was the brains and Scott was the brawn.

"But you like doing research," Scott said as though that was a reasonable enough excuse.

Looking disappointed yet again when Stiles finished his drink before him, he put his own empty bottle down with a look at Stiles that said he had no idea what his best friend was talking about. It was a familiar look. "A face-face?" What did that even mean?

He would if he thought it would actually stick.

"Yeah, I do." It wasn't a complaint and really, it was that little edge that he had that made him feel like he had something to contribute besides, 'Look at my crappy jeep. Come beat it up some more, guys.'

Stiles grinned at Scott, waving for two more beers and two jager shots. "A face-face. You have a puppy face. I bet if you'd given Peter that look when he was about to bite you, he would have stopped. It's like, a weapon. I have a face-face. It's a regular face with no qualities about it that give me any leeway in getting out of any situations. It's just a face."

"I seriously doubt that," Scott said about Peter, but he knew Stiles was just exaggerating. What he didn't know was that Peter was, in fact, back from the dead with Lydia's help. That was going to be a shocker, whenever he found out.

Scott wondered whether Stiles was fishing for compliments by going on about how un-puppy-like his face was, which was what made him say, "There's nothing regular about your face."

Wait, that sounded like he was calling Stiles' face weird.

"I mean, you have a special face."

Maybe special was the wrong word... Scott tried again.

"I like your face." Would Stiles like to know why? Well, Scott was going to tell him. "Because it's the face of my best friend who I love thiiiiiis much." He stretched his arms out wide, almost knocking over the empty bottles on the bar. Someone was a little drunk already.

He also didn't know that Peter had offered him the bite and that Stiles had turned it down. These were things you kept from your best friend.

Stiles reached out and grabbed Scott's arm, steadying him just in case someone decided to weeble wobble their way off the stool onto the floor. Again.

"Yeah, I love you too, Scooby Doo. Now, drink your shot and your beer," he said with a wide smile as he picked up the dark liquid in a glass. "To loving faces."

"Does that make you Shaggy? But you don't have enough hair..." Scott ran his hand over Stiles' buzzcut fondly. "And you're not tall and lanky enough... Like Isaac is." Oh dear, was he implying Isaac would make a better Shaggy than him? Hopefully Stiles wouldn't read too much into that.

Scott raised his shot in the air. "To loving faces apart from Derek's because his face is a butt." In other words, a buttface, which gave Scott an idea. "We should find him later and moon him." Scott had always wanted to do that and the alcohol was giving him the liquid courage he needed to do it.

Stiles' eyes narrowed at the mention of Isaac. "Yeah, sure. He can be Shaggy." Not.

His glass clinked against Scott's and he was glad his friend had made the suggestion before he'd gone to drink. "Oh my god, yes. We so have to moon him. There's no penalty of being mauled by the weredick, so this so has to happen. Maybe he'll think he's looking in a mirror."

"You can be Velma because you solve everything! And Derek can be Scrappy because nobody likes him." The conversation had officially reached ridiculous levels.

Scott was lucky he'd drank his shot by the time Stiles had said that last part, Scott erupting into giggles. "We should just knock on his door and when he opens it, there are our butts. Right there," he gestured with his hands. "Two full moons." Look at that, the werewolf was cracking werewolf jokes.

"Why do I always have to play the virgin? I want to be Daphne. Daphne was hot." He took a sip of his beer. "Maybe Derek can be the guy whose mask we take off all the time. 'If it hadn't been for them dagnabbit kids'. Stupid sour wolf."

Stiles laughed, a little of the last of his sip spilling out. "Oh my god. Yes. Yes. That is what we're doing. We're going to go moon Derek and watch him turn into a werebutt."

"But Daphne looks like Lydia." Therefore Stiles couldn't be Daphne.

"I wish we had a camera to record his face." Because they'd probably be too busy butt-flashing (or butt wiggling... yeah, there'd definitely be butt-wiggling) to see Derek's face before he inevitably slammed the door in their faces - or their butts, more accurately.

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